


The Purpose of Learning

by vamm_goda



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cute Chekov, Episode Related, Gen, In Search of Eden Coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-17
Updated: 2009-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamm_goda/pseuds/vamm_goda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s Chekov.  He must muddle through as best as he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Purpose of Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Season 3 “In Search of Eden”. It’s been awhile since I saw it, so some little things might be off. I’ve never read the books, so I’m working with purely TV canon. Prompt from a dear friend, requesting Cute!Chekov.

Pavel Chekov is not a child. It’s easy to confuse him for one – wide eyed innocence and optimism and a generalized sense of the justice in the world.

He’s never found that justice, but that doesn’t mean he will stop looking, either. It’s this that attracted him to Irina, her complete, unthinking faith in a place where things could be good, could be _better_. It’s in his nature to hope, and that more than anything makes people assume less of him.

Chekov is not stupid. There’s no way he would be helming the Enterprise if he were, and everyone who knows him knows this. He’s not stupid. He just believes in a simplified version of the universe, one that seems at odds with his Russian heritage but undeniably Chekov all the same.

“Mr. Chekov?”

He turns, eyes falling immediately to the floor, posture shifting into attention as he’s been trained, position as effortless as breathing.

“Mr. Spock,” he says, finally, spine tense and painful. If he’s expecting a scolding, he’s surprised to be spared anything harsher than a delicately raised eyebrow.

“Your behavior in the circumstances was compromised.”

And there it is. Spock does not often involve himself in the disciplining of the crew, preferring not to overstretch his authority in the face of Captain Kirk’s hands-on method of governance. But it’s not unheard of, and Chekov drags his head up, meeting Spock’s eyes. Ready for the sting, because while he respects Kirk, he _worships_ Spock, effortless authority and dignity the slightly gangly Ensign can only marvel at helplessly.

“It was,” he admits, quietly, taking responsibility, unwilling or unable to deny it in the face of Spock’s ruthlessly attentive listening.

“It was, however, not entirely unexpected.”

That, more than anything, stings. That Spock has come to expect these silly flights of fancy, his childlike and easily diverted attention. It is common for Chekov to imagine he were something different, something older and worldlier, something more like Spock, or the Doctor, but never has he truly been ashamed that he’s not. He’s Chekov. He must muddle through as best as he can.

“Mr. Spock,” he says, finally, knowing he can’t really finish that sentence. “I learn from my mistakes. It will not happen again. Ever.” He keeps his face rigid, employs the mask he’s seen Spock carry through every experience, and keeps it there even when it sits wrong on him.

“Your behavior was compromised. That is a risk we can not allow to continue.”

His head drops, a scolded puppy, but Spock continues.

“Your compassion and empathy are a strength to you, Mr. Chekov. They are traits I find acceptable. They are nothing to be ashamed of. Only experience will teach you to temper them with wisdom.”

He stares, because he can’t _not_ , not when Spock as much as admitted his respect, his admiration, for an inherently emotional reaction, and his shock must register, because Spock takes a step back, a deep breath.

“You will learn, Mr. Chekov. For now, you will be confined to quarters until the Captain and I have dealt with the prisoners.”

A blank stare, and Chekov finds himself nodding, slowly, a smile working its way over his face, because it’s a punishment, but not really. “Thank you,” he says, slowly.

Spock nods, once, a regal incline of his head, and Chekov’s dismissed. He goes to leave, meeting McCoy on a rapid intercept course.

“Spock?” the doctor asks, blue eyes flashing. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that was _human compassion_ I saw from you.”

Spock just stares, eyes hooding like he’s hiding something. “Now, Doctor,” he says, finally. “There’s no reason to be insulting.”

McCoy smiles, laughs, and Chekov bows his head.


End file.
